napowrimo conclusion.

so it’s may now!

which means it’s no longer april, which means i’m no longer writing a poem per day, which has been bittersweet.

april did encourage me to write more, and to share more, and i hope that continues in the months to follow. in the meantime i just wanted to say thank you to everyone who followed, liked, and commented along throughout my napowrimo adventure.

sometimes i was a bit drunk when writing, sometimes i was serious, and once i forgot to post before midnight, but i legit managed to write a new one every day. and it felt pretty great to share them without worrying about editing & obsessing first.

i had fun doing it & the encouragement was super helpful, so really, thank you! i hope you keep following & enjoy future posts.

edwards park.

napowrimo #28


when we crossed
the river i made a mistake

one hand in yours, plucking grass
from a lawn with the other,

stomping the slugs and
snails downwards, into the earth


you curl
fingers together
with yours in a lone
you lost the
other, or gave it


beneath our umbrella we damage
the soil, we dig with purpose

in the end
we ask for the rain, for
the way it becomes when
we’ve torn up the streets

a place.

napowrimo #1

early in the crisp forgotten winter,
our morning, you hissed, like
slushing snow on tires in my ear

our bed, our pillows oxymorons
for a place we wish we were
but cannot be,
a place we dodge by
blaming lingered hours,
daylight saving, or the weather

the streets are no place for
a failing spring, but crisp and
bedding is
a spring we’ve yet to see

it is absolutely spring.

i have a blog, and i use it. and sometimes it’s horrible, but sometimes it’s awesome. people have even called it awesome. well, they’ve generally used their vocabularies when describing it. but still.

and it’s spring.

i spend more money than i have on lovely things that are new, things that were not things in my last apartment. oh and i plan things. all the time. but i still haven’t changed my address everywhere. but i do plan things.

i have super nintendo again, and i have started to become sentimental about new things. a post-it without words on it is hanging on my wall, actually without words. without a quotation from an office i haven’t worked at in weeks.

and it’s spring.

i found all these pieces, around my room, because when i moved into my last room it was winter and i was having pieces literally thrown onto my shoulders. i found the pieces around my room because i was unpacking a room i had built of them alone.

but pieces, even when you slide them into plinko slots, or tear them so they only fit a certain way, will blow across the tile. sometimes on their own but also, other times, when someone forces breath on them.

anyway, it’s spring. and all those pieces are in my closet in a hat i turned upside-down.

not thrown out, because i’m me.

but it is spring now. almost summer. and i’m going home. and i have fish. and i still hear traffic. and i played catch on friday night with my hand inside a sweaty baseball glove. and i made a promise to myself, a long time ago, before even last spring, or the spring before.

i’m going to let myself have the happy instead. or at least try for it. again. because it’s spring, and i have this new post-it. and the nintendo. and these new lovely things that can only belong here. and walking along the canal with my new roommate, which wasn’t even my idea, which is nice.

and pieces, hidden. which is also nice, because i’m me, and because it’s spring.